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FORTY-TWO
RENALDO
“I swear to God, Elliot, when we find out who put that website out there, I’ll throw the book at them.” Kay was fuming, staring at the diary she’d abandoned on her desk. “Let’s go over this and make sure we’ve covered all possible bases. We’re tracking down the money trail behind the website’s hosting, that’s one,” she counted on her fingers. “We have subpoenas for all that, so we’re rock solid. That will give us the IP address of the person who uploaded the content, their credit card info, everything we need. Then, we have subpoenas for all those phone records, and two deputies following up with the respective carriers. Are we forgetting something?”
“I have six possible kids who could be the second unsub, shortlisted. None of them have records. I was counting on Dwayne Goodrow to pick out the perp from the photo array, but—”
“Yeah.” She clenched her jaw for a moment, powerless and frustrated. “What’s up with that? Do you think Dwayne’s a part of it?” She gave the thought a moment, but it didn’t gel. If she knew anything about people, Dwyane wasn’t mixed up in what had happened with Jenna. He’d been forthcoming and helpful, holding her gaze with steady, honest eyes and without a flinch. Then why the hell did he run before he could make the ID? Had Gaskell reached out, or maybe used his father’s interloping clients to scare him off?
It was possible.
Nevertheless, they’d find him. BOLO was out and everyone was looking for him. A material witness warrant would be next, if he didn’t show up before the end of the day. Either way, Kendra had been missing for more than thirty-six hours, and, without Dwayne, they couldn’t arrest Richard Gaskell and interrogate him. Time was flying by, and time was the one thing Kendra didn’t have.
“Maybe he got scared, thinking the crime had started from his sandwich place and he might be somehow held responsible. Some people don’t like dealing with cops. Or maybe he’s got a record.” Elliot didn’t sound convinced.
Without sitting down, she typed Goodrow’s name into AFIS and didn’t find an entry. “He’s clean. That’s not it.” For the tenth time since she’d been back at her desk, she checked her email for the phone records she’d been waiting for. Still nothing. “Show me those names again,” she asked Elliot. “And their faces.”
All were dark-haired high school seniors matching the rather vague description offered by Dwayne. One name stood out.
“Let’s go see him first.” Her fingertip tapped against one of the faces. “Renaldo Cristobal. I’ve heard his name before.”
“You got it.” Elliot grabbed his hat and stood, stomping his feet silently to arrange his jeans. They had ridden up his boots. “Mackenzie Trenton mentioned him.”
“Yes, he was one of the first people who was spreading rumors about Jenna. I wonder what he has to say about that.”
Elliot drove faster than she would have to Renaldo’s address, cutting the commute short to only a few minutes. He braked hard in front of the house, while Kay stared at the front porch with a raised eyebrow. The house was modest and old, clean but falling into disrepair. The front porch, poured in a thin layer of cement, had cracked in multiple places, and weeds were growing in the cracks.
“Why would Gaskell’s kid hang out with someone like Renaldo?” she asked, hurrying to the front door. She lowered her voice as she rang the doorbell. “Rich kids usually flock together.”
“Maybe they share a common interest,” Elliot replied as the door swung open.
“Yeah, I’m sure they do.”
Renaldo stood in the doorway, turning pale as he looked at the badge Elliot held in front of his eyes. He took a step back at first as if to invite them in, then changed his mind and stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
His face was delicate, almost feminine, and his hair raven black and shiny, parted in the middle and about an inch short of touching his shoulders. The black circles under his eyes didn’t match his visibly fake casual demeanor. He was definitely hiding something, fidgety and scared to be standing a few feet away from the detectives.
“We have a few questions about Jenna Jerrell,” Kay said. “Do you mind if we come in?”
He threw the door an uncomfortable look, then stared at the cracked cement at his feet. “I’d rather we talked out here, if that’s okay. I’m not, um, I’m—” He stuttered, looking pitiful as he wrung his hands together.
“It’s all right,” Kay replied. The livid kid barely managing to stand straight in front of her didn’t have the intestinal fortitude to be a killer. “We can talk out here. It won’t take long.”
Renaldo breathed, but still didn’t look at her.
“Tell me about the rumors that were started about Jenna last April.” She watched his reactions carefully. If anything, he seemed slightly relieved; still scared, but he breathed deeply and lifted his eyes for a brief second, while his face was turning flush.
“I don’t know, um, who started it. I had nothing to do with it.”
“We have a witness who testified you were bragging about sleeping with Jenna. Is that true?”
He took a step back until he hit the closed door. “Sort of, I mean, no. I didn’t sleep with Jenna. No, I didn’t.”
“Why the hesitation?” He didn’t reply. “Didn’t you actually say you slept with her?” Still no response. “Did you just brag about it?” Elliot asked, lowering his voice to a friendly, conspiratorial tone. “Just between guys?”
Sweat broke in tiny beads on the boy’s forehead. He was constantly fidgeting, shifting his weight, pacing in place. His hands found the depths of his pockets, stretching the thin fabric of the slacks he was wearing. “I didn’t sleep with her,” he finally said.
“Who’s lying? You or our witness?” Kay asked, her voice cutting into his resistance like a hot knife through butter.
